Date With the Enemy
by descole4life
Summary: With the mask, he is know as Descole; the violent criminal everyone in London fears. But without the mask, he is just a regular professor that works at Gressenheller University. But the world comes tumbling down when Layton, his best friend, takes on the case of a few major robberies that had taken place in London. Their main suspect is none other than Jean Descole.
1. The Accident Beforehand

*****Major spoilers for Azran Legacy! Hey ya'll :) Okay, just to be clear, this story has nothing to do with the others I have written :D**

**Also, Azran Legacy's ending that says Descole and Layton are brothers isn't cannon in this story! Just because :) Have fun reading!**

* * *

He had been living two different lives. At night, he was known as Descole; the inspiring criminal everyone in London feared. But in the day, he was just a regular professor called Sycamore that worked at Gressenheller University. (The University was where he had met his best friend Hershel Layton). Nobody knew that Sycamore and Descole was the same person except for himself. It was the perfect disguise. You may ask 'Why would a super-criminal dress up as a professor?' Whatever to pay the bills, I suppose.

But on what was supposed to be the biggest night of his life, something dared to put a stop to Descole's scheme - A distorted pinkish line took up most of the left side of Descole's face. It had been a result of his latest, most daring bank robbery yet. It had taken place a few days back, but the scar hadn't fully healed. How could he go out in public like _this_? Let alone meet _the_ professor. His cover would be blown if would have stepped outside, he was sure of it. But he had promised this day to Layton. The couple had not seen each other in weeks; Layton, busy with grading papers, and Descole, well you know robbing banks and such. Descole had even reserved dinner for the two at the fanciest, not to mention most expensive, restaurant available in London. Yeah, that bank robbery was needed to pay for all of that fancy French bread.

"How could I have been so careless?" Descole muttered to himself as he tried to cover the aching scar found on his face with anything he could find. "No matter, I promised to Layton that this was our night."

Descole slowly opened his closet door in which revealed his Sycamore disguise neatly placed inside. He sighed, once again reminded that one day the truth would come to Layton. What would happen then? Would Layton still care for him; knowing that Sycamore was actually his greatest enemy? The truth was soon to be revealed...


	2. The Date

**This was supposed to be like a cheesy 80s romantic comedy , but then it kind of took on a life of its own! I also picked the setting as the end of fall**

**into winter! It just seems more romantic than summer time to me :) Have fun reading!**

* * *

After being properly dressed with his best tuxedo, Sycamore headed for his car and switched the ignition on. He started to adjust the mirror when he saw a reflection of himself. The scar looked even worse than before, and his red glasses only concealed a small portion of it. He sighed and turned the mirror the other way before leaving.

By the time he had reached the restaurant, evening had turned into night and the air was growing colder by the minute. To make matters worse, Sycamore had a terrible cold and was sneezing and coughing constantly when outside. When he entered the restaurant, he was greeted by a polite red-headed woman who worked as the waiter.

"Welcome! Sure is cold out there tonight, eh?" the woman came over and greeted Sycamore by the door. "Do you have a reservation for tonight?"

"Ah, yes I believe I do." Sycamore had to take a break to sneeze before continuing. "It should be under the name Sycamore…?"

The young woman ran over to the podium at the front to check her oversized book full of reservation dates. "Hmm let's see here…Ah! Here it is! Mr. Sycamore is it? Well I do believe that your partner has already arrived. In fact he's been here for quite some time now."

"What?!" Sycamore looked down at his watch to check the time. "Oh no! Is it nine already? It can't be…"

"Yep, it is sir! He's in the table near to the window at the back. I would get going if I were you!" The girl giggled as she pointed to the back of the restaurant were Layton was supposedly at.

"Thank you very much young lady. You've been quite some help but I better get going now." Sycamore headed to the back of the restaurant; hoping that Layton hadn't given up on him yet.

* * *

Layton hadn't even looked up when Sycamore had sat down at the table, "You're terribly late."

"I know and I'm truly sorry! I just lost track of time I suppose…"

"Well, I've already ordered for us if you're wonder-" Layton looked up and saw Sycmore's face. "Oh my gosh…S_-Sycamore_?

_"__Oh no he noticed it…" _Sycamore's heart began to beat right out of his chest.

Layton reached over the table and gently stroked Sycamore injured face and was staring directly at the scar. "What…? _What happened to you_?"

Suddenly emotions took over his entire body. He had been nervous the entire evening about this moment. He was a fool to think Layton wouldn't notice. His mind began to race; thoughts that Layton would find out the truth were consuming his mind. Sycamore placed his hand on Layton's and started to tremble, "I-I-It's n-nothing… j-just a scar…okay?"

"No Desmond, it's not okay! There is a huge scar on your face! Who did this to you?" Layton tightened his grip on Sycamore's hand. "Tell me, won't you?"

Sycamore could do nothing but sit there helplessly. "P-Please Layton, I don't want to talk about it," He knew that Layton was getting annoyed of him. But he _couldn't_ tell him anything; it would ruin everything he worked so hard for. "To sum it up I've had a rough week. That's all."

"_That's all?" _he hissed back; obviously aggravated with his answer. "I need to know what happened to you! Who did all of this, Desmond? WHO?!**" **Layton removed his hand from Sycamore's and slammed his hands on the table. **"TELL ME WHO DID THIS TO YOU! I HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW!"**

Layton was now standing up and was looking Sycamore directly in the eye. The entire restaurant grew quiet and was looking at the table were all the noise was coming from. Even the young waiter stopped what she was doing to see what was happening.

Shocked by the sudden outburst, tears began to form in his eyes. "Please…I-I really don't-" With everyone in the restaurant staring, Sycamore broke down and began to sob uncontrollably. The stress got the better of him and all the yelling wasn't making it any better.

"Oh, Sycamore…," Layton sat back down and held Sycamore's hand and rubbed it back and forth to calm him down. "I'm so sorry I yelled at you. I just…" Layton took a long, deep breath. "I just really worry about you sometimes…"

"N-No… don't be sorry," It took a while for the words to come out since he was crying so much. "After all, wasn't it I that was terribly late?" He gave a small excuse for laugh.

"That doesn't even matter now!" Layton was growing impatient with all of the confusion that he was experiencing. "Wait… is that why you were late…? Your scar I'm meaning."

"Well," Sycamore looked around the restaurant wondering what he should say, "Partially so, yes. I-I tried to cover it but, as you can tell, nothing really worked. I-I didn't want you to w-worry!" Sycamore began crying once again and covered his face with his hands. He pushed away Layton's hands hoping the conversation was over.

_"__Didn't want me to worry, huh?"_ Layton muttered to himself as he drank the last of his tea.

Just then the waiter came out with their food. "So, you two having a good night?" She had the worst timing possible.

The two barely spoke to each other for the rest of the night. Sycamore complained once that he had lost his appetite and didn't want anything. But that was about it for the talking. At the end, Sycamore insisted that he pay the entire bill and Layton, tired of arguing, simply nodded his head.

* * *

It was nearing half past ten when Sycamore and Layton and finally left the restaurant. The air had gotten terribly cold with snowflakes falling from the sky every now and then.

"A-A-Achoo!" Sycamore sneezed loudly into his coat sleeve and began to quiver. "My, it s-sure it c-cold out-" A violent cough attack interrupted him from speaking.

Layton quickly took off his jacket and placed on Sycamore's shoulder and drew him closer to himself.

Sycamore began to feel himself blush underneath Layton's arm, "Wh- *cough* What was *cough* that for?"

"I need to drive you home, Desmond. You're in no condition to be on the road."

"What? *cough* Of course I can drive! *cough* It's just a pesky cold. That's all."

"It's not just that… I need to talk to you. Privately."

After a few minutes of coughing and sneezing later, Sycamore finally had enough energy to speak, "No, I can drive perfectly fine. And even if I did ride with you, what about my car? And also-"

"Don't worry about your car. I'll take care of it in the morning," Layton tightened his arm around Sycamore. "I just really want to talk to you. I'm worried that-" he took a long pause trying to think of the right thing to say. "Please, just let me drive you home. You're sick, I'm worried, and…" he took another long sigh. _"Please _Desmond."

Sycamore was shocked by the urgency in Layton's voice. He rarely asked for anything, let alone begged someone. "If it means that much to you, I will."

"Thank you," After hearing the answer, Layton started to walk down the parking lot, tugging Sycamore's arm along the way toward the direction of his car. "Say hello to the Laytonmobile!" A big grin spread across his face.

Sycamore couldn't help but smile too, "Hello there Layt-" Another cough attack interrupted him. This time it was beginning to hurt his chest. "Ah… s-s-sorry Laytonmobile. Please e-excuse me and my t-terrible c-coughing," his shivering had gotten worse even with Layton's jacket on.

"Oh no, we need to get you home. I don't think this a simple cold anymore," Layton picked up Sycamore and placed him in the car.

"I p-promise you it's just a simple cold. It also doesn't help when it's thirty degrees outside," Layton laughed and gently closed the door. He started the car immediately after getting to the driver's side.

"That better for you?" Layton asked after a few minutes when the car had fully heated.

"Y-Yes, it's much better." Sycamore looked over at Layton. "Thank you for doing all of this for me."

"Oh, don't say thanks just yet. After all we have much to talk about, don't we?" Layton put the car in reverse to back out of the parking space, "Starting with that scar on your face."


	3. Flashback

**Hello there! This chapter is mostly dealing with how Sycamore got the scar! Sooo yeah... Remember to R&R :D (tw: blood)**

* * *

Sycamore tugged Layton's jacket closer to him and glared out the window. He saw the slight reflection of himself and was reminded of the episode of events that took place a few days ago.

* * *

"Alright ladies and gentleman! I'm afraid that I'm going to ask you to put your hands up!" Descole had just begun his biggest heist in his entire career. Most of the crimes had to do with simple home robberies. He had no reason to do criminal acts in his free time. He just loved the adrenaline and the attention it brought to him. But nothing compared to robbing the biggest bank found in London. "Ahem…" Everyone in the room stopped and looked at Descole waiting for his next move. He grabbed his sword out his scabbard and swung it in the air making a figure eight. "We don't want anyone to get hurt, now do we?"

Seeing that he had a weapon on hand, most people remained silent and moved toward the back while others panicked and tried to escape the building from the other back door. To their disadvantage, it was sealed shut.

"Now then, that's much better!" Descole walked up to the first counter where a young, terrified woman _was_ working. "Would you be a dear," Descole pulled a sack from inside his cape, "and fill this up for me?"

The petrified girl looked down at the sack and back up at Descole and slowly put her hand out for the bag; trembling the entire the time.

"Ah, thank you very much darling! I know you'll do an exquisite job," Descole put his hand around the grip of the sword, "won't you…?

Scared of what my happen if she didn't, the girl ran to the back of the bank where the vault was located. She came back a few minutes later with the sack entirely full.

"Ha, I knew you wouldn't disappoint me!" Descole grabbed the bag for the girl and headed for the exit. "Sorry for that little number folks! I'll be on my way now."

"That won't be happening any time soon," a tall, dark man came out of the group of crowed people and looked Descole straight through the mask. "You think you can just rob the place and get away with it?"

"Well, of course. Isn't that what I'm doing?" Descole turned around and pointed the sword at the man. "I would get back if I were you," the tall man started to walk closer to Descole. "I don't want any trouble, but I will do what I must," Descole stood his ground and the sword stayed in place.

"Me neither, but…" the man reached in his shirt and pulled out a pistol, "I can't have anyone doing _this_ in my city, now can I?" he then had the gun loaded and aimed directly at Descole's face; ready to pull the trigger at any second.

Descole's heart sunk when he saw the loaded weapon the man's hand. Knowing that he would lose the fight, Descole quickly turned for the front entrance hoping for a quick escape.

"Oh no you don't! You're not going anywhere!" the man put both hands on the gun and pulled the trigger in what seemed like a second.

Since Descole had just moved, the gun's aim was not all that accurate. The bullet barely missed Descole's head, but did ricochet onto Descole's face' leaving a terribly painful open wound.

After feeling a sharp pain in his head, Descole stopped to see what exactly happened to him. He felt his face start to burn; blood covered the entire left side of his face and was dripping onto the sidewalk below. That was as far as he could remember. He guessed that he ran to the best ability away from the man and somehow ended up back at his house undetected. It was probably for the better that he didn't remember; it would only cause him to be under more stress than he was now.

* * *

"Desmond…are you quite alright? Desmond…?" Layton looked over at Sycamore after hearing no reply for a few minutes. "Desmond answer me! What's wrong with you?"

Sycamore realized that he had been lost in his train of thought for quite some time shock his head to get out of it, "Huh…?"

Layton blew a long sigh of relief, "Quit worrying me Desmond! And what was that? Did you dose off or something?"

"No, I don't believe I was," Sycamore rubbed his eyes, "I was just thinking."

"Well, no matter what you were doing you're not getting out of the question. What happened to your face? Just tell me and get it over with, won't you?" Layton was focused on the road but still looked over at Sycamore every now and then to check on him.

He sighed and told himself the he had to tell Layton some of what happened if he was ever to be quiet about. But he made sure to paid attention in the order of the words he spoke; making sure he wouldn't seem suspicious of his actions.

"I'll be honest with you, Layton, if you promise to drop the subject afterwards," Sycamore looked over at Layton and he nodded in agreement; still watching the road. "There was this fight going on... and well … I didn't win to put it shortly."

"Didn't win? You're going have to be more specific than that, I'm afraid."

Sycamore sighed and spoke quietly to himself, "The other pulled out a gun. And I…"

"What? I can't understand you! You're speaking to softly!"

"I said I got shot okay?" This time was _much_ louder than he had spoken before. He had almost yelled it out to Layton.

Suddenly the car braked violently and abruptly; causing the cars behind him to through some rude gestures to him. Upon impact, Sycamore slammed his face on the window in front of him. It caused horrible pain to burst through his already injured head.

"S-Shot? _You were shot?!_ Sycamore...why didn't you call me or-or something of that matter-" Layton looked over at Sycamore and saw him holding his hands to face. Layton saw a drip of blood fall from the cracks on his hands. The impact of the car breaking had caused the delicate skin to break open again. "Oh- _Oh no! S-Sycamore! I-I didn't mean to-"_

Just as abruptly as the car stopped, Layton slammed the pedal and began to drive as fast as the poor car could handle.

"L-Layton? Would you please calm down? It's just a little scratch...Nothing to worry yourself about! Look it's already stopped bleeding!" Sycamore removed his hands from his face to show him after being hit twice already tonight.

"I don't care Desmond! _You were shot! _And you didn't even think to tell me?" Layton looked over at Desmond with tears swelling in his eyes. "I-I-I…" Layton slammed his hands on the steering wheel. "_I-I love you Sycamore! You can't do this to me! You can't torture me like this!" _Tears began to fall from his face and into the driver's seat. _**"What else are you hiding from me, Desmond?"**_


	4. Slip of the Tongue

**Thank you all for all the nice reviews :D Have fun reading!**

* * *

It had taken them a few more minutes to arrive at Sycamore's house. By that time Layton had calmed his nerves down.

Layton opened his car door and got out without saying a word. Sycamore tried his door but it had been locked at some point. "Uh, Layton… it seems that the door-"

Suddenly his door opened from the outside, with Layton standing right outside. He gave out his hand to help Sycamore get himself up. "*cough* Layton…?"

"Shh. I'm helping you," Layton put his arm around Sycamore and guided him toward his door, "Can I see your keys?"

* * *

Once inside, Layton started a fire in the fire place and guided Sycamore in the chair near it. "Please Layton; you don't need to do this…"

Layton had left for the kitchen and didn't reply. He came back with a cold wash-rag in hand. "Hershel, you've done quite enough for me. Far more than I would expect from anyone…"

Layton got on his knees and placed the cold wash-rag on Sycamore's face. "Ah! T-That hurts!" Sycamore grabbed the towel and held on to it, "Please you've done enough for me... You don't have to anythi-"

Unexpectedly, Layton threw himself on Sycamore and held on him tightly. Sycamore suddenly felt bad about what all he had done to him that night. "Hershel… I'm truly sorry for not telling you sooner. I just- *sigh* I don't know what to do anymore," Sycamore put his hands around to comfort him. "But… I am glad that I got to see you tonight…"The calming sound of the flicker in the fire had helped the both of them relax.

"Will you do me a favor, Desmond?" Layton got removed himself from Sycamore and sat on the table next to the chair. "Will you take the next week off from work?"

"What? Of course not, Layton! I have classes to teach!" Sycamore was startled by the sudden request Layton had made. "Besides, there's no excuse for me _not_ to show up to work."

"You've got all the reasons in the world, Desmond! Better yet, I'll go in the morning at the University and tell them what happened to you! They'll surely understand!"

"No! You can't tell them anything!" Sycamore nearly jumped out of seat. "They can't know about anything! Not the scar, not the robbery. **Nothing!"**

"What?! Robbery?" Layton got up and stood in front of Sycamore. "When was there a robbery?"

_"__Did I say…?_ _Oh no I did!" _Sycamore wanted to slap himself for making such a foolish mistake. "N-No! There was never a robbery to begin with! I don't know what I'm saying!"

"Oh my god, Sycamore," Layton turned and started to rub his eyes, "See! This is what I mean! You're saying all these absurd things that aren't making any sense!" Layton got on one knee, grabbed Sycamore's shoulders, and looked him in the eyes. "You're taking the week off and that's final."

"No!" Sycamore pushed away Layton's hands. "I'm perfectly fine, Hershel!"

"Fine, I won't tell them anything about the scar or the fight! I'll say you're terribly ill and cannot work the week! Will you do it for me?"

"It's not right to do that, Layton! Don't lie for me!"

"And I promise to come here immediately after I get off. Every day, I swear!" Layton gripped Sycamore's hands and squeezed them; ignoring his reply. "Please! I haven't seen you in weeks. And, frankly, I'm worried sick about you!"

"I… don't…think…" Sycamore looked up and saw Layton gazing into his eyes. He gave a long sigh. "If it will make you feel better…I suppose I have no choice but to give in."

"Oh thank goodness…" Layton let go of Sycamore's hand and stood back up.

"But only for a week. After that I'm definitely going back."

"Yes, of course! I promise to come and check on you right after work, okay?"

"I suppose that will be fine…" Sycamore knew that he would have to hide all the evidence of his other life where Layton couldn't find it.

* * *

"It's nearing midnight," Layton tipped his hat, "I best be on my way now."

"Oh…I guess you should then," Sycamore gradually stood himself up and headed for the front entrance and opened the door. "Well, I know it didn't go exactly as planned, but-"

"Don't say that, Desmond. Everything went well, trust me. And it was great to see you again," Layton smiled politely and headed for his car parked across the street.

Sycamore smiled back to him and relaxed his shoulders while leaning against the door. When a cold breeze had him, he suddenly had remembered that he was wearing Layton's coat. "Ah! Layton! You've forgotten your jacket! It's terribly cold out there!"

Layton stopped and turned around when heard Sycamore running toward him. "Thank you, Sycamore. It has gotten quite cold." Layton said when he had received his jacket.

Under the street light, Layton slowly put on his coat and Sycamore stood there watching. "I'll see you tomorrow, correct?"

"That's the plan, I suppose." Layton opened his car door, "See you then, Desmond."

"See you, I guess…"

After Layton had left, Sycamore stood outside in middle of the street looking around. "Wait…Where's my car?!"


	5. Calm Before the Storm

The following morning, Layton had gone to the main office at Gressenheller University requesting leave for Sycamore. After his permission was granted, he headed for his classroom for another long, boring day of teaching.

The rest of the day went without accident. But just as Layton was headed out, a familiar face came into the room. "Ah, Professor Layton. There's something I need to discuss with you," the voice was Leonard Bloom; one of the best detectives London has to offer.

"Hm?" Layton looked over to see who was there. "Could you make it quick, Bloom? I have to get going soon."

"As you may know, I hate to ask for your assistance. Most cases I can handle, but there's this case at Scotland Yard that has gotten cold in a matter of days."

"Your point being…?"

"My investigation team recommend that I come to you and ask for help with this case we're working on. All of the witnesses' testimonies make don't add up. We did, however, find blood at the crime scene. We've already sent off a sample to the laboratory but won't get back for another week. Other than that, we have no evidence. We decided to hold a meeting two days from now; Wednesday to be exact. But there are still things—"

"Listen, Bloom," Layton had finished organizing his papers on his desk and was ready to leave. "Can't we discuss this at a later time? I'll give it my undivided attention later, I promise."

"Oh, sure. It's not like the entirety of London is waiting for you to solve a case or anything."

"Great, I knew you would understand!" Layton walked past Bloom and went out of the classroom.

Bloom sighed and shook his head, "Does anybody get sarcasm around here?"

* * *

Sycamore woke up to a blistering headache and a sudden cough attack. After he had gotten dressed, he sat on the couch and put an ice pack on his forehead. He spent the rest of the day staring at the clock above the fireplace; awaiting Layton's arrival. _"Come on, it's five. He should be here by now…"_

Suddenly the doorbell rang and Sycamore immediately stood up; causing immense pain to shoot through his head. He cringed and put the ice pack on his head. "Ah! Ow! I-I'm coming!"

Sycamore opened the front door and saw Layton holding a tall stack of papers in his hands. "Oh? Busy day at work, I presume?" Sycamore shut the door after Layton had walked in.

"To put it frankly I would say," Layton dropped the papers on the living room table. "Anyway, how is your day turning out?"

"Well, first of all, I woke to this blasted headache and it hasn't quite gone away," Sycamore pointed to the ice pack that was on his head.

"I can't imagine how you must feel - Oh, that reminds me! The University accepted your request of absence for this week."

"I suppose that's good news…" Sycamore looked over in the other direction. "Did you tell them…?"

Layton adjusted his hat on his head, "I promised I wouldn't, Sycamore. I just said you were ill, that's all."

"Thanks Layton; I'm glad that I can trust you…"Sycamore looked backed over at Layton and he smiled back.

"Now then," Layton sat down on the couch behind him and looked at the papers, "where do I start…?"

"Do you need me to help you? I happen to know a thing or two about archeology," Sycamore laughed at his own joke.

"No, I don't want you to worry about such things. Just sit down and relax," Layton scooted over on the couch to make room.

"Well, if you say so," Sycamore sat down next to Layton, "I see no harm."

Layton smiled and pulled out a pen out of his coat pocket, "Don't mind me. Just try to relax, okay?"

Just then, Layton felt something on shoulder,_ "Sounds like a swell plan to me,"_ Sycamore had put his head on top of Layton's shoulders. He could feel himself starting to blush, so he quickly picked up a paper to grade to distract him. Sycamore saw him and started to laugh.

"W-What is it? What are you laughing at?"

"Oh, it's nothing! I'm _definitely_ not laughing at you!"

"Hmm, I somehow doubt that, Desmond. In fact, I saw you-"

Suddenly, Sycamore planted a small, light kiss on Layton cheek. Causing Layton's entire face to go red in a matter of seconds. "W-What was that about?!" He said after Sycamore pulled away.

Sycamore fell back on the couch and broke into a fit of laughter, "Oh! You should just see yourself, Layton! You're all red-faced! Are you embarrassed or something?"

"N-No! You just caught me off guard!"

"Aw, look at you getting all angry!" Sycamore pinched Layton's cheeks. "Aren't you just _adorable_?"

After a minute of being teased, Layton gave in. "You're one to talk, Desmond! I mean look at you! That hair of yours, those-" All of a sudden, the tall stack of ungraded papers caught his attention from the corner of eyes, "Oh my, I'm acting like a teenager, aren't I?"

"You are _so_ immature, Layton," Sycamore rolled his eyes. "Go ahead and finish, then!"

"I believe you are mistaken," Layton looked over at Sycamore, "I _was _finished."

"Finished? _I think not_,"Sycamore took off his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt, "In fact, you were about to say what else you admired about-"

Layton gently grasped Sycamore's chin and turned it toward himself, "Those eyes of yours… I'm meaning."

"Oh_, those_…?"

"How stunning…these eyes. They're pure red…" Layton came closer to get a better look. "I don't believe I've asked before: Have they always been like that?"

"W-Well…since I was born, yes. I suppose that's how eyes work."

"Wow, this may sound silly but… I can't believe I'm just now noticing how beautiful they really are…"

"Quit it Layton," Sycamore, embarrassed, pushed himself away and put on his glasses. "They aren't that appealing."

"Of course they are! You should take off your glasses more often. In fact…" Layton came closer and pulled his glasses off. "There…"

"But I can't see that well without them…"

"Ah, but you don't need to, Desmond," Layton picked Sycamore's chin up and slowly came closer to him, "Trust me..."

"Oh, uh… What are you doing now, Layto—" Sycamore stopped himself when he saw the blur in front of him grow larger.

Layton was nearly an inch from his face when he stopped himself, "Wait, aren't you supposed to be sick?"

"Are you kidding?" Sycamore backed himself up and put his glasses back on. _"Oh, pardon me, Layton!_ _I just happened to forget!"_ Sycamore fell back so that his head was on the arm of the couch on top of Layton's legs. "Please Layton; take me home since I am deadly ill! Please Layton; care for my every need! Please, I'm horribly love sick for you!" Sycamore put his hand over his head and closed his eyes for dramatic effect.

"Now, don't say that… You really were sick, Desmond," Layton began to run his hands through Sycamore's hair; messing up the perfect bun on the bottom.

"Hmm..."Sycamore opened one of his eyes and looked up. "…Layton…?"

"Ah! W-What is it?" Layton could feel his face getting hotter.

"Ha! You're blushing again!"

"Oh, grow up!" Layton pushed Sycamore off his lap. "I have work to do, you know! I can't do anything with you distracting me all the time."

"I see how it is! I'm just an annoyance to you! Fine, I'll leave you alone to do your 'school work' like you want," he crossed his arms and looked in the other direction.

"Aw, is someone getting angry?"

"Maybe..."

* * *

It had taken longer than Layton expected to get through all of the papers. By the time he had finished, Sycamore, by the looks of it, was fast asleep; resting his head on Layton's shoulders. He put the lid back on the pen and put it in his coat's pocket. He relaxed back on the couch and put his head against Sycamore's. "Desmond, are you awake?" he whispered.

"…Now I am…" Sycamore eyes were still firmly shut. "What is it…?"

"I suppose I'll be taking my leave shortly…"

"Wha-? Nah… just…" he took a break to yawn. "stay… with me…"

"On your couch? Sorry but I don't think that's very comfortable…"

"Well, the bedroom that's way…"

"Ah! No way!" Layton nearly jumped back.

"Well, just lie down here…" Sycamore pressed Layton down long-ways on the couch. "There, that better?"

"Y-Yes, but still—"

"Great," Sycamore rested his body on top of Layton's, "now go to sleep."

"Uh…I…" Layton looked down and saw Sycamore's head lying on his chest. "Well, goodnight, I suppose," Layton smiled and put his hand in Sycamore's hair.

"Goodnight, Hershel," It didn't take long for the two of them to fall asleep.

* * *

"Layton…?" Sycamore looked up. "Uh, I think you should wake up now…"

"Hmm…? What... get up…?" Layton hadn't even opened his eyes yet. "What time is it?"

"Um, I would say half past seven now. But I've been thinking…. Remember last night? Like how you almost kissed me and such? Well—"

"What?! Half past seven?!" Layton jumped up from his seat and looked up at the clock.

Sycamore's head landed on the couch abruptly. "Well, don't make my headache any worse! Goodness…"

"Ah! I need to go NOW! I can't be late!" Layton grabbed the papers in a hurry and ran for the door, "See you, Desmond!"

Sycamore ran right behind him and stood at the door, "I hate to see you leave but love to watch you go, Layton!" he yelled back.

Little did Sycamore know, a middle-aged mother was walking her kids on the side walk in front of his house. She covered the kids' ears and shook her head at Sycamore.

Layton shot him a look. **_"What did you say?"_** he mouthed back.

"Oh, um… sorry about that Miss. You can get on with your day now!"


	6. Snow Flurries

Layton barely made it to the University before his class started. Most of his students had already arrived and were awaiting their lesson. The rest _should_ have been there. "I apologize for being so –" Instead of everyone seating, the entire class was beside the widow looking outside. "Hmm…? What is it?" Layton put the papers on his desk and then went over to the window. Outside, it looked like it had just begun to snow. "Ah, would you look at that. And it isn't even December yet!" Layton adjusted his hat. "Now then, let's get class started for today, shall we?"**  
**

_Layton barely made it to the University before his class started. Most of his students had already arrived and were awaiting their lesson. The rest __should_ have been there. "I apologize for being so –" Instead of everyone seating, the entire class was beside the widow looking outside. "Hmm…? What is it?" Layton put the papers on his desk and then went over to the window. Outside, it looked like it had just begun to snow. "Ah, would you look at that. And it isn't even December yet!" Layton adjusted his hat. "Now then, let's get class started for today, shall we?"

* * *

By the time school had released, it had already snowed a couple of inches and had no sign of slowing down. He was debating to call Sycamore when the phone itself rang. "Hello? Um, it's Layton speaking."

"Hello, there is a paper in the office for you. Please pick it up before you leave the building."

"I'll be up there in a few minutes," Layton hanged up the phone. _"Should I call Sycamore…?"_ He looked at the phone and then towards the window,_ "I see no harm, I suppose," _Layton dialed the number and waited for a response.

"Hello? Layton is that you?"

"Yes it is," Layton sat down at his desk. "Have you seen the weather? Goodness, and it isn't quite December yet, either."

"Hmm, it is out of the ordinary. Why don't you play it safe and stay home today? It's too dangerous to drive in the condition."

"Well actually, the thing is… Here at the University, they don't allow heaters in the penthouses; it's a fire hazard, of course. So, I was thinking…"

"Ha, of course you can stay here! I'll have to do some major cleaning in the guest bedroom for you, though. Just make sure to pack for the next day this time."

"Thanks, I'll be there in an hour or so," Layton, after saying goodbye, hanged up the phone and headed for the front office.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Professor! Here are the papers that were dropped off for you," the attendant handed him a folder. "They were sent by Leonard Bloom. He said to tell you that he expected school to be cancelled tomorrow. I guess that's why he dropped them off," she scratched her head for a second. "He also said something about a meeting of some sort…"

"Oh, I know what it is," Layton looked through the papers. "Thanks ma'am. Get somewhere warm, won't you?"

"Don't worry about me, Professor! In fact, I would recommend you staying the next couple days in a hotel or somewhere with heat. The University gets terribly cold; especially with schools not in session."

"The next couple days? My, is it that bad out there?"

"Well, on the news they're saying it's only going to get worse—" Suddenly the phone started to ring behind her.

"I don't want to hold you back, then," Layton tipped his hat before leaving. The attendant waved back as she was talking on the phone.

* * *

Sycamore's guest room had a queen bed in the center back, a small desk to the right, and a door to a closet to the right. The room itself was across from Sycamore's master bedroom and diagonal from the bathroom. The guestroom, however, had been recently used as a small office. Books and papers had been scattered all over the room. It had taken nearly an hour for everything to be properly organized. _"Hmm, I suppose it needed it." _Sycamore looked out the small window above the desk. _"Just how bad is this storm?"_ Just as he began to walk down the stairs, he heard the doorbell ring. Sycamore quickly unlocked and opened the door, "Come on in, now!" He took Layton's suitcase, "Ah! Did you pack your entire room?"

Layton closed the door behind him, "Just a few things to last me a couple of days. You know, clothes—"

"A couple of days? I though you insisted on staying just one night."

"Oh, I apologize! I guess I didn't tell you. The storm is expected to stay here for a while. From what I've heard, a few days at least. Do you wish me to—?"

"No, no, no!" Sycamore took off Layton's jacket and hung it on the coat hanger. "It's a nice surprise to have you over for so long! Come, I'll show you your room!"

Sycamore tried to pick up the suitcase but couldn't get very far, "Here, let me get it," Layton laughed and picked it up with one hand.

"How did you do that?"

Layton smiled and shrugged his shoulders, "It isn't that heavy at all, Sycamore. Now, where was the room again?"

"…Upstairs…" Sycamore stared at the suitcase. "Here, I'll show you."

Sycamore guided Layton upstairs to the room on the right which acted as the guest bedroom. "Sorry for the clutter. I did my best to clean most of it. That reminds me, you can find the restroom across this room."

"This is a guest room?" Layton looked around the room. "It looks more like a master suite to me!"

"Ha, it's definitely not a master suite, trust me."

"It isn't? I wonder what the actual one looks like then…"

"Are you wishing to see it? It's to the left of this room, if you are."

"Is it okay with you? I don't want to make things awkward for you."

"Sure go ahead. It's nothing special, after all."

"Okay, if it's all right. I am a little curious," Layton walked across the hall and opened the door. The back of the room had a huge king bed full of pillows and blankets. Next to it was a wooden nightstand with an odd-shaped lamp. To the right of the room was a huge bookshelf worthy of being in a library. "Oh my… it's gorgeous…"

"Well, I'll let you get situated in your room. In the meantime, how about I make you some tea?" Layton was still gazing in the room when Sycamore left.

* * *

_"__How does he afford all of this? He has the same job as me…" _Layton walked back to his room and started to unpack. _"Probably inheritance or something of the sort."_ After he was finished, Layton walked downstairs and into the kitchen where Sycamore was pouring tea from the kettle into a cup.

"Hey Layton, what's that for?" He pointed to the yellow folder on the table.

"Oh that," Layton sat down. "It's from Bloom. He wants me work on some case for him."

Sycamore handed a cup of tea to Layton, "Again? Can they not solve any case without you?"

"Thanks," he took a sip from his cup, "I suppose not. But this one seems a little more serious. In fact, it has already gone cold."

Sycamore sat down at the seat across from Layton's, "What are the details?"

"I haven't looked into it much myself," Layton opened the folder and set it on the table "Let's see what we're into here… Hmm? A robbery, that's all? I thought it would be more sinister than that…"

_"__R-Robbery? No, it can't be…" _Sycamore's heart dropped almost instantly. "When was this…robbery?"

"Almost a week ago, it seems. Kind of odd that—"

Images began to swirl in his mind and around the room. "I-I suddenly feel sick," Sycamore put his cup on the table and put his hand to his face, "Please excuse me. I-I'll be in my room."

"Wha— Do you need any help?"

"I'll be fine. C-Call me if you need anything." Sycamore left the kitchen and slowly made his way upstairs to his room.

"Wait…! What's wrong with you? Sycamore?" Layton got up and looked outside the kitchen, _"Guess he doesn't want me to know about it. Or anything of that matter._"

* * *

Sycamore closed his door and lied down on his bed, "_It's all over… He knows… He knows everything… He'll figure it out… He'll hate me… He already hates me for keeping all of these secrets… I need to tell him… But I can't… No, I won't… No one will find out… They can't… They…won't…"_ Sycamore grabbed a pillow from his side and screamed into it. He heard the shower turn on in the other room shortly after. _"I can talk him out of the case… They'll never figure it out without him. Fools have never caught me before. What makes this time different? Everything is going to be fine… Just fine…" _He took off his glasses and set them on the night stand; his head still spinning. "_But…eventually…he'll… _NO! NO! NO! HE CAN'T!"Sycamore had accidently yelled out loud. "NO! He'll hate me!" Layton's shower had turned off.


	7. Doctor's Orders

**Sorry for not updating in a while! I'm a few chapters ahead of this one, but I keep forgetting to put them up here! So, um... Have fun! **

* * *

Sycamore sat up on his bed and rubbed his eyes, _"What's with this blasted headache? I can barely see anything with my glasses! What's wrong with me?!"_ He laid down and rested his head on a pillow for about ten minutes.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, "Desmond? Was that you yelling?"

Sycamore sat himself up "Don't come in, Layton. I'm feeling a tad under the weather."

"I swore I heard you yelling. I'm coming in to make sure you're alright," He opened the door to find Sycamore sitting on the bed with his hands covering his face. "What is it this time?"

"The truth is I can't see anything clearly. Everything is moving but I can't make out anything."

"It's probably because you're not wearing your glasses."

"No, it's even worse with them on!"

"Yesterday you said you couldn't see anything without your glasses. Now you're saying you can't see either way?"

"I-I'm just dizzy… Everything is moving so fast… I—" Sycamore began to fall back on the bed. "Nothing is right. What's wrong with me?"

Layton ran over and put his hand behind Sycamore before he fell over, "I have no idea what's going on! You're—"

"I have a feeling that you hate me, Hershel," Sycamore pulled away his hands and looked up at him.

"H-Hate…? When did I—" Layton was put aside by the random outburst. "What makes you say that?"

Sycamore clinched his head, "M-My head…I…"

"If I hated you so much, would I be doing all of this for you?" Layton stood in front of Sycamore and held his wrists. "Why do you think I hate you? What have I done? Have I done anything to harm you? If anything, it's you! Lying to me, keeping things from me! How dare you?! And to say something like that?"

"L-Layton stop…I can't see. Everything has gone black…" Sycamore tried to pull his hands away but was too weak.

"What do you mean everything is black?!"

"…I…" Sycamore could barely make anything out from the face-less blurs. Every word was drowning into unrecognizable sounds. The blurs were becoming darker and darker until it was pitch black. His entire body decided to give up.

"Desmond?" The wrists Layton were holding stopped fidgeting and relaxed back. "What's happening?" Sycamore's eyes slowly began to close. "My word, are you fainting?!" Layton let go of his wrists and Sycamore fell back on the bed. _"What have I done to you?" _he looked down and saw red marks around his hand. _"Did I cause all of this…? I was_—"

"Hmm…? Wha-" Sycamore stirred around and put his hand to his face. "What's going on? Where—"

"Desmond, where do you keep the emergency numbers?"

"Emergency numbers?" Sycamore tried to pull himself up. "There's a list of them by the fridge. But I don't see—"

"Thanks, you stay here. Don't try to get up," Layton walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"What is going on?" Sycamore felt around for his glasses. "Don't get up? What's that supposed to mean?"

* * *

Layton dialed the number of the local doctor on the kitchen phone, "Oh, please pick up…"

After a few minutes of ringing, he finally picked up, "Yes, who is it?"

"Thank goodness! It's me Professor Layton. Something is terribly wrong with—"

"You know I can't come out in this weather. So you're going to have to solve this on your own…"

"Wait! At least tell me what to do!" Layton walked over to the window and looked outside. It had started to snow even faster than before. _"Why today?"_

"You've never sounded this urgent before… I'll give you that," there was a long pause. "Just tell me the symptoms."

Layton told him everything that happened that day starting with the suitcase. "-Then he just passed out! I don't know what's wrong with him!"

"Hmm, from the sounds of it, it seems nothing too serious. Did he fall hard?"

"No, just on the bed. Thank goodness for that," Layton relaxed his shoulders and sat down at the table. "What could cause all of this?"

"The only thing I'm thinking is anxiety. Has he done this before?"

"No, never."

"Well, something may have happened to him in the past couple days or weeks that caused stress for him. It must have gotten out of control. Do you know if anything like that occurred?"

"Now that you mention it, there was something he was freaking over…But I forgot what he said about it."

"That's probably the cause of all of this, then."

"What should I do…?"

"Listen, once he cools down just talk to him. No yelling or complaining, nothing to stress him. Once he gets it off his chest he should feel much better."

"That's all? Just a case of too much stress? Nothing permanent..?"

"No, no, no! Nothing like that, Layton. Just calm him down and everything will be fine. Call me if anything gets worse."

"Of course. Thanks again." Layton put up the phone, sighed, and looked upstairs.

* * *

"Sycamore, are you in?" Layton peeked inside his room but quickly realized that he wasn't there. He heard the shower going in the other room. _"I told him to stay where he was," _He walked out of the room and went back downstairs. _"My, he has exquisite tastes," _Layton stroked the grand piano that took up much of the living room. "_I don't think he'll mind…" _

After changing into his night clothes_, _Sycamore turned on the hairdryer. After a minute or two, his hair was finally dry and he shut it off. In the distant he could hear the muffled sound of the piano. _"Ah, is that…?"_ He left the room and slowly made his way down stairs; stopping at the last step to listen. Every note was perfectly harmonized and diversified together effortlessly. "I never knew you could play so well, Hershel," Sycamore came behind him and wrapped his arms around him.

Layton didn't flinch and acted like he barely noticed, "Are you feeling better?" he continued to play. "I called the doctor earlier."

"And why did you do that?"

"Well, you may not know, but normal people call the doctor when they're felling under the weather. They especially call when someone passes out."

"Hmm, what did this doctor of yours say exactly?"

"He proposed that you are under severe stress. And that I should figure out why."

"That's all? Sounds more like he didn't have a diagnosis."

"No, I believe he is correct," Layton stopped playing. "You haven't been acting yourself lately. You are right now, but what about before? I think it all waters down to you being under pressure constantly."

"Oh, please don't stop playing. It's so lovely and calming."

"You think so?" Layton resumed playing. "Or was that just an excuse to get out of the conversation?"

"A little of both," Sycamore removed his hands, "I'll be back in a minute," He left for the kitchen.

_"__I don't think he really wants to talk about anything with me. If he doesn't with me, he won't tell anyone," _Layton reached the end of the song and closed the cover. _"I'll come with something to make him talk…"_

Sycamore walked back in the living room; this time holding a wine glass half-way full, "Over all ready? Well, I enjoyed the performance while it lasted."

"Why don't we talk in the dining room for a while?" Layton got up and walked towards Sycamore. "Just for a change in scenery."

"I don't see why," Layton took Sycamore hand and pulled him toward the dining hall, "but I suppose that will be fine enough."

* * *

The dining room consisted of a grand chandelier hanging over a large wooden table, eight cushioned seats lined up and spaced perfectly, and a single candle in the middle of the table. "I rarely ever use this room," Sycamore sat in the farthest seat on the end. "Its only purpose is for guests and such. Which I never have, of course."

"It's a mystery why you don't," Layton sat in the seat left of him, "It seems like you would be a fabulous host."

"Do you think that?" Sycamore took a drink of his wine. "It's just that I get tense when some stranger comes in."

"Now, why is that?"

"Well, I think they'll find something they don't…agree with."

"You need to quit worrying so much about the little things. How could anyone find anything wrong with this house? It's a gorgeous home, Sycamore."

"No, that's not what I meant," he lifted his glass and drunk the remaining wine. "I mean they'll—Oh, I don't know."

"_Here he goes again; cutting his sentences short. I need to make him talk to me…"_ Layton glanced down at the table and saw the empty glass, "Here, I'll get some more. Stay right here." Layton went to the kitchen and came back with the opened wine bottle.

"Eh? No thanks, Layton. I don't want to get any sicker than I already am."

"No, I insist you do!" Layton poured wine into the glass until it was almost full. "You could use some after what you've been through!"

"I suppose a little more couldn't hurt," Sycamore took a sip. "Although it seems like you _want_ me to get drunk."

_"__Maybe I do…" _Layton sat down and leaned his head against his hand, "What? Of course not!"

"You know I was just kidding, Layton! Now, didn't you want to ask me something?"

"Nothing right now. Let's just relax, shall we?"

Sycamore nodded and continued to drink small amounts out of his glass. "Hmm…" Sycamore looked at the candle and smiled.

"What are_ you_ thinking about?"

Sycamore swirled his glass around. "Remember the first time we met?"

"I try to forget," Layton poured more wine into the glass while Sycamore was talking.

"It was your first day at Gressenheller as a professor. You looked so worried, you poor thing! You introduced yourself to me later that day…"

"I'll admit I was a little nervous when I first met you."

"You were? How charming is that? Hershel Layton nervous around me…" Sycamore leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.

"Well, I was going to teach the same thing as you were. Thought you would have taken insult to that."

"Insult? It was an honor to meet someone like you. Not many people get into archeology anymore, you see. I was glad to see someone new come in."

"It hadn't been two years before you started teaching there, had it?"

"That's correct, I hadn't really settled in myself before you came," Sycamore sat himself up and took another drink. "Oh, how about the time you came begging to me to help you? Ha, you couldn't even handle a simple class!"

"Didn't I invite you to my penthouse? That place was always unorganized with papers and books. I mean it still is but talk about being a bad host."

"All you did was talk about archeology all evening long! I don't think I said a word the entire time," Sycamore laughed and took another big gulp. "It was only for a few hours, but still, how can one talk so much?"

"Don't you like how the tables turned? Now you never stop talking…" Layton turned his head and smiled.

"_Anyway,_ the very next day you came waiting outside my door; waiting for my class to release and—"

"Please, this is embarrassing to talk about," Layton covered his face

"You asked me out! It had only been a week since I met you! I was so put back by it—"

"Ah! Let's talk about something else!"

Sycamore turned up his glass and drunk the remaining wine, "Is my little Hershel getting embarrassed?" he had to stop to hiccup. "No one's listening to us!"

"Okay, I think you've had enough of that," Layton picked up the wine bottle and the glass and brought to the kitchen, _"Now is the time to ask him. While he's out of it at least…"_

"Um, Sycamore…? Would you mind me asking you a few questions?" Layton pulled up a chair and sat down beside him.

"Of…course…not. Go ahead then. Ask away." Sycamore fell back on his chair and slid down some.

"Could you tell me what's been on your mind?"

"N-Nothing has been on there. Why would there be?"

"_I'm going to have to be literal with him. _Uh, no I mean what's bothering you?"

"Oh, well…um… you know. I've been thinking…"

"Yes, what is it?"

"What if…you didn't care for me? I mean I don't think you'll like me anymore. Because *hiccup * I've only hurt you."

"No, no, no you haven't hurt me at all," Layton squeezed Sycamore's hand. "How about your scar? Could you talk to me about it?"

"Which one? That hideous one on my face, you mean? I thought I told you already. Some idiot decided to pull out a wretched gun on me—"

"Wait…? There's more than one?!"

"Sure there are! Would you like to *hiccup * see them?"

"Yes, I would like to. Which one hurts the most?"

"That's easy," Sycamore relaxed his shoulders and pulled down the right side of his collar on his loose white shirt he used as night wear. "This one took the most damage."

"You never told me about this one," Layton reached over and tried to look inside the collar. "Would you mind if I—"

"No, do whatever you want to." Sycamore nearly fell off the chair but caught himself just in time. "I don't *hiccup* care what you do."

Layton slowly began to unbutton his shirt one by one. When he finished he pulled it back. "Oh my gosh, Sycamore!" The scar looked like a large scratch that ran down most his body. It was evident that the scar was much older than the others were. "When did this happen?" Layton tried his best to stay calm.

"Actually, I got this one a while ago. Was it a year…? Maybe two…? I can't remember at the moment…"

"What happened? What could cause this?" Layton felt of his scar from his shoulders down.

"Well, it's a funny story. See, I was doing my own businesses. Then someone came up and knocked me out. With a bat? Maybe… I don't know. Next thing I know I was thrown over a bridge into the freezing water and sharp rocks. Can you believe that? I guess they thought I was dead because they didn't come back to finish the job later…" Sycamore was talking about the time he was Descole running from a gang of fellow thieves having a bone to pick with him. This was the first, true time Descole had been in major trouble. "My near dead body floating through the cold river like a piece of trash… Eh, not good times."

Layton just stared into Sycamore's eyes; astonished by what he had said, "Wha—"

"But I got up after a long time, I suppose. By that time, I was already in some sort of tunnel. I followed the small light at the end; *hiccup* clutching myself the entire way. It seemed to be in the middle of the night with a few street lights on. I somehow made it home unnoticed. Took the whole night though. Sometimes I wish that I didn't make it home that night. But—"

"B-But what?!"

"Then I met you a few months later. You really changed me, Hershel."

Layton looked down at his chest and saw several dozen smaller scratches and wounds. He then looked up at his face and saw the huge scar on that took up the entire right side.

Sycamore smiled back, "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"Y-You too," Layton was still in shock but managed to speak, "C-Come on, let's get you to bed. I'm afraid I got you a little dizzy from the wine. I'll talk to you in the morning when you're alert and normal again." Layton put his hand around Sycamore and helped him upstairs to his room. He shut the door and went to his temporary room. _"I never expected him to say that…" _Layton lied down on his bed and shut his eyes. "_What does it all mean? Is someone out to get him and his money? Oh, I'm so sorry Sycamore. I'll never yell or scream at you again. Because you really are the best thing that has ever happened to me," _Layton grabbed a pillow and put it over his face._ "Tomorrow is going to be a hand full… I can feel it."_


End file.
